


these ghosts

by dreadfulbeauties



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfulbeauties/pseuds/dreadfulbeauties
Summary: Randolph and Richard, one uneasy night.
Relationships: Randolph Carter/Richard Upton Pickman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	these ghosts

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Randolph speaks softly, voice brittle as dead autumn leaves. He’s illuminated silver-blue by the faint natural light from outside, fingers gripping tight hold of Richard’s shirtsleeve. Though he looks so frail — thin arms, thin everything, wide eyes that shimmer and blink set in a freckled face — Richard thinks if he grabs him any harder that he’ll leave bruises. And he’s surprised at the clarity in his voice, considering he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Another nightmare, I see.” Richard tries to keep his voice stable.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Randolph nods. “I — it was — I — Harley — you —”

He cuts himself off and buries his face in Richard’s shoulder, fingers gripping at him so tightly through his shirt that Richard swears he might tear his skin apart. He’s crying — quiet, but the shaking of his chest with every visceral, gut-wrenching sob and fervent breathing are telltale signs of it, along with the tears making Richard’s skin and shirt wet. He hates whatever part of Randolph’s mind is making him feel fearful even in his dreams, hates seeing the person who’s brought him so much joy crying and shuddering and upset.

“I was so _scared,_ ” he rasps out, pulling away, “First it was Harley in those dreams, now it’s _you_. I don’t _want_ to see you there, Harley’s gone, I don’t want you to die and end up like him!”

Randolph is no madman. He knows so. Those dreams, Richard realizes with a chill to his bones, are more prophetic than he’d like them to be. It was only two weeks ago that they saw the gravestone marked “ _Here lies Harley Warren — Beloved Son and Brother_ ”. They both know that there was no body in the coffin lurking down there. There was nothing that they would find after hours of digging, dirt getting stuck under their nails and caking their fingers in dark brown. And, Richard thinks to himself, he might end up with only a tombstone that’s got his name on it to be remembered by, too.

So he just holds Randolph close, warming his gooseflesh-covered skin and letting him bury his head in his shoulder. Richard knows his own hands tremble when he reaches down to smooth Randolph’s hair away. He knows it’s no good to deliver them both saccharine lies, wrapped up in neat and sweet little parcels of “It’ll be okay” and “It was only a dream”. He’s seen enough monsters beyond the paint streaked on his canvas to know that. He says only what he knows and feels for certain, even if it isn’t enough.

“I’m scared, too.”

It takes time, but Randolph’s breathing begins to slow down. He wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, pulling away from Richard’s shoulder to rest his head on his chest.

“At least you know,” he says, “At least you don’t think I’m mad or that I need my head cut open.”

“You’re not. You don’t.”

“I just… _God_.” He squeezes hold of Richard tightly once more.

“I’m sorry you’re having nightmares, and I’m sorry about what might happen. We’re here now, though. We’ve got each other, and I love you.” He pulls Randolph close to him in a movement of security he does not feel. “I know you’re scared. So am I. You’ve got every reason to be. We’ll have to figure out a way to solve this soon.”

“I know. I know, I don’t want anything like that to happen again. But I’m too tired to think properly — I’m already using only a few hours worth of sleep every night, and crying must’ve sapped me of any energy I’ve got left.”

In more normal circumstances, Randolph’s words might be punctuated by a slight laugh. These aren’t normal circumstances.

“You can stay here, though.” He tilts his head down to kiss at Randolph’s hair. “Go back to sleep. We can talk more about it when you’re able.”

He knows that accepting this false blanket of security, clinging that semblance the same way a small child might cling to their mother’s hand, is dangerous — perhaps more so than what waits for them ahead. But Richard and Randolph have nothing left, and it is only for one night. So he holds Randolph close, watching him close his eyes, and waits till sleep finds him, too.


End file.
